


Kikyo

by TeddyKrueger



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Consent is Sexy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Or Nobility, Porn with Feelings, Retainer!Kenma, Royalty AU, Smut, This is so self-indulgent it hurts, everyone is royalty, prince!kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyKrueger/pseuds/TeddyKrueger
Summary: The tears flowed freely now. Years of secret glances. Years of disguising blushes as heat exhaustion. Years of late nights, his low moans disturbing the quiet of his room. His hand would travel down his chest, acrid guilt accompanying his eventual release. It all had to stop. But he couldn’t manage it himself. He needed to be forced from Kuroo’s side. He needed to leave for good.And he knew the most painful way to do it.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 24
Kudos: 219
Collections: Kenma Ship Week 2020





	Kikyo

**Author's Note:**

> What's Kenma Ship Week 2020 without a little Kuroken? Not a proper Kenma Ship Week at all.
> 
> Thank you to my beta Jules ([@kisforkermit](https://twitter.com/kisforkermit)) for looking this over for me! Enjoy my first attempt at smut~
> 
> ( **Note:** In flower language, Kikyo (or bellflowers) means unchanging love and honesty.)

Kenma hunched over in his stool, propping his chin in his hand and scanning the schedule for error. Several drafts were aligned in front of him, each covered in red pen marks and blue underlining. Even Kenma doubted the legibility of his own handwriting beneath the chaos.

He ran over each task in his head, leaving a small dot next to each as he went down the list.

_History lessons, meeting with the king’s council, riding lessons, dance lessons, greeting the Shimizu domain’s royal fam–”_

“You forgot about mealtimes.”

Kenma twiddled with his pen. “Starving builds character.”

Kuroo barked laughter and stole a pen from the pile. “Who needs character when you’re dead?”

“They’ll have something interesting to include for your obituary,” Kenma replied with a shrug.

“‘Prince Tetsurou Kuroo, 23. Died of starvation due to an overzealous schedule determined by those closest to him,’” Kuroo said dramatically. “The kingdom would be pleased to discover a betrayal from my own retainer.”

“Might I remind you that your father recommended these lessons and not myself?”

“Touché.”

Unlike the rest of Kuroo’s retinue, Kenma’s first memories of him weren’t of coordinated suits or meetings in which gray-haired men with permanent scowls droned about the political climate of the country. Instead, he recalled racing footsteps upon polished marble and boyish cackling echoing throughout the vast hallways of the castle’s East Wing.

While Kuroo’s ensemble of hawk-eyed tutors called for “Prince Kuroo” to return to his studies posthaste, Kenma peeked into spare rooms, finding and subsequently admonishing “Kuro” for torturing everyone in the castle for the sake of enjoying his freedom.

Though Kenma often dragged him out by his collar and sent him to academic captivity, sometimes he indulged the prince. The two would read in silence or ponder hypothetical situations in which one or both of them were trapped in a room with Prince Ushijima. They’d imitate his burly, yet stiff posture, eyes narrowed in disbelieving scowls before dissolving into laughter.

Kenma wished time wasn’t equated to luxury.

Kuroo crossed out his evening strategy lesson with Kenma and scribbled a note in the margins of the page.

“‘I, Prince Tetsurou of House Kuroo, royally decree that Lord Kenma of House Kozume, is hereby required to dine with me in the garden this evening in lieu of lessons,’” Kenma read aloud. He leveled Kuroo with his gaze. “I highly doubt His Majesty would approve of you changing your schedule on a whim.”

Kuroo collapsed into a nearby stool, stretching his arms out in front of him on the long wooden table. “If I have to spend one more moment wasting away in my study or the Council Chamber when I have better alternatives, I might confine myself to my room for the rest of eternity.”

“Suit yourself,” Kenma said. Kuroo had done it before, but he tired of isolation eventually.

“So?” Kuroo said, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.

Kenma sighed, but signed the bottom of the schedule to mark it official. “If you forget your texts, I’m going to lock you out of the castle and you can _sleep_ in the garden.”

Kuroo mock bowed. “But of course, Lord Kenma.”

Kenma wrinkled his nose. In his opinion, the title never suited him. He accepted it for formality’s sake, but once his position became apparent, it was as if a sign floated above his head, indicating to everyone in the vicinity he was _not_ to be disrespected. Not that he welcomed disrespect, but he had always favored genuineness over propriety.

“Are you planning to wear that today?” Kenma remarked.

Kuroo pulled at the lapels of his black vest, hugging against a white linen shirt. No matter how often he was reminded to keep his sleeves smoothed down, he opted to push them up to his elbows. Most of the staff ignored his small rebellion, but today he could not dress as he liked.

“Is this any different from what I usually wear?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma slid the schedule over to him and tapped at one of the activities wordlessly.

“Oh,” Kuroo said. “That.”

“Yes. That.”

“I’m sure King Shimizu won’t disapprove of casual dress in my own home.”

“Do you remember your last meeting with Lady Amanai?”

“Yes, but–”

“And Lady Michimiya?”

“She was obviously pining over Daichi so why would I–”

“Princess Haiba?”

Kuroo folded his arms on the table and placed his forehead atop them. “Your point has been made.”

Kenma patted him on the back patronizingly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Go change. You still have enough time to break your fast before your lessons.”

“Accompany me, then,” Kuroo said. “You can debrief me on next week’s ball as we go.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Since when do _you_ need to know the details of an upcoming ball?”

“Since I needed an excuse to spend more time with you,” Kuroo said, smirking.

Kenma swallowed, cursing the dull ache in his heart. It had been ever present since the first time they’d danced the day of Kuroo’s 13th birthday celebration. He’d vowed to never place himself in such a position ever again.

He collected his papers, ignoring the hand Kuroo held out to help him from his seat. Entertaining his antics would only encourage his playfully destructive behavior.

“You don’t need an excuse,” Kenma muttered, exiting his study swiftly without a backwards glance.

Kuroo’s snickering and his sauntering steps followed behind Kenma, both soothing and harsh on his ears.

  


* * *

  


Princess Shimizu sipped at her floral tea, eyes shut behind lightly fogging glasses. Her side-ponytail flowed to her collarbone. She shifted in her seat, her dark blue dress rustling against the freshly trimmed grass. Of all the noblewomen and princesses to visit, she held the most grace.

Kenma kept his features calm as she and Kuroo talked. She tittered behind her hand, causing Kuroo to lean in closer, more and more jokes littering their conversation.

Rather than ignoring Kenma and her own retainer though, she included both of them, asking questions of Kenma’s own upbringing and regaling them with stories of Lady Yachi—a woman whose blonde hair would have obscured her blush if it hadn’t been tied back with a pink ribbon.

“Oh, Prince Kuroo, Hitoka, would you mind doing me a small favor?” the princess asked, placing her hands in her lap.

“Yes, princess?” Kuroo said.

“I wanted to request a list of the attendees for tomorrow’s ball. I meant to do so earlier, but it slipped my mind. Father doesn’t approve of me asking myself, so I have to send Hitoka, but I’m afraid she’ll get lost without a guide.” She demurred. “I hope I’m not asking too much.”

“Of course not!” both Kuroo and Lady Yachi responded simultaneously.

The princess smiled politely. “Thank you.”

Kenma turned back to face the princess after watching the two disappear. Her eyes remained concentrated on the garden door. It reminded him of the way he looked when he caught himself in the mirror after a particularly relaxing day with Kuroo. It was fond.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said finally.

Kenma clasped his hands to keep them from pulling at a strand of his blonde-tipped shoulder-length dark hair. “And what’s that, princess?”

“You love him just as much as I love her,” she said.

Kenma stiffened. Obvious. He was so obvious.

But wait.

“You love her?” he asked, tentatively, hoping his ears hadn’t tacked on the end of her comment to soften her accusation.

“My father brings me to these meetings for appearances, but he’s already approved of our betrothal.” Her posture loosened and she placed her elbow on the table, setting her chin in her hand. “Now the question is, why haven’t you told him?”

Kenma glared at the ground. “I...can’t.”

“It’s not a matter of can or can’t.”

He almost snapped to inform her she couldn’t comprehend what he was experiencing, but refrained from speaking an untruth. “He is my best friend.”

“And she is mine.” She adjusted her glasses. “No woman will ever surpass the bond you two maintain. Besides, he only looks me in the eyes when he’s speaking to me directly. Otherwise he watches your every expression. Every reaction. He does not see you as a mere friend.”

Hope flickered. He smothered it. _I refuse to be engulfed in impossibilities._

Kuroo and Lady Yachi returned. Both beamed as she held up the guest list. How the princess would manage to memorize them all by next week was beyond him.

 _Wait,_ he thought, whipping his head around to gape at her. _No one has_ ever _asked for a list. Not even His Majesty._

She formed a sly smile and held up a finger to her lips. Kuroo was not the only one who needed to review battle tactics.

Kenma had been ambushed.

  


* * *

  


Kenma made his rounds, greeting all manner of nobles and royalty as he forced small talk he’d developed over years of lessons. After a while, he took his leave to survey the ballroom from a corner.

Musicians performed, their crescendos lifting even Kenma’s own spirits. Ladies and princesses twirled across the floor in sweeping steps, their ornate gowns swishing with each spin or change in direction. Lords and princes in fitted coats sweated under the light of the chandeliers, but it did not diminish their mirth.

Among the crowd, Kuroo danced with Princess Hinata. A simple braid lined the side of her hair, the rest gathered in a messy updo. Kuroo spoke into her ear, eliciting a giggle from them both from Kenma’s perspective. They were no doubt jeering at the more obnoxious guests attending the soirée. 

Kenma smiled softly. She’d only made her societal debut several months earlier, but rumors indicated she ignored tradition and propriety in favor of sneaking into town with her older brother. She and Kuroo always saved a dance for each other, enjoying the glares of the more strict nobles. Even the toughest girls appreciated a friend.

Kuroo switched partners, Lady Yamaka reluctantly allowing him to lead her around. Kenma caught Lord Daishou grimacing nearby. The two had been subtly courting for months, but from Kuroo’s jesting, it seemed he’d not confessed his feelings officially.

Lord Daishou downed his chalice of spiced wine, marching into the throng. He poked Kuroo’s shoulder prompting the two to cease their dance. Kuroo gave what looked like a chuckle and stepped away, soon finding another partner to replace her.

_Look at me. Ask me._

Kenma thanked the gods that Kuroo couldn’t read minds.

Someone tapped Kenma’s shoulder. He looked down at a man, his hair the same shade of orange as Princess Hinata’s. _The original rascal of House Hinata._

“Would you like to dance, Lord Kozume?” Prince Hinata asked, extending a hand, his brown eyes disappearing behind a wide grin.

Kenma flicked his eyes toward Kuroo who still held a noblewoman close. His eyes dazzled even from paces away. A distraction was welcome.

He nodded to the prince and took his hand. “Just Kenma is fine.”

“Then you should call me Shouyou,” the prince offered in return.

If Kenma were not wearing three layers of clothing, including his thick maroon coat, Shouyou’s hand would have warmed his waist along with his hand. He led Kenma along, his steps clumsy as he raced against the tempo the musicians set for them. Kenma guffawed as the prince almost brought them crashing to the ground, but he caught him before they could.

“You cannot tell me His Majesty, King Hinata, did not hire someone to teach you to dance,” Kenma said, recovering from their almost disastrous trip.

Shouyou resumed their dance, this time keeping in step with the music. “Of course he did, but it’s more fun this way.”

Kenma could not argue. The few times he’d been invited to the floor, his partners had been stiff. Sometimes they looked to their feet as if trying to remember the steps they’d learned in their lessons. Instead, Shouyou shone like a carnelian under the rays of a setting sun. A gem among them all.

They stopped a moment to clap as the song ended. Shouyou reached forward again as if to continue their dance, but a man loomed over him, his dark blue eyes boring a hole into the back of the prince’s head.

“Prince Kageyama.” Kenma bowed. If Shouyou was a carnelian, Kageyama was lapis lazuli. The two complemented each other in both appearance and demeanor.

The prince returned the gesture. “Lord Kenma.”

“Ah! Kageyama!” Shouyou chirped. “Would you like to dance?”

The other prince looked askance and muttered something.

Shouyou frowned. “Is that a no?”

“Just…” Prince Kageyama grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

Shouyou smiled apologetically as the prince pulled him away. Kenma laughed at the retreating pair’s similarly blushing ears.

Before Kenma could excuse himself to return to his corner, arms wrapped around his waist. Someone lifted him and spun him around. Kenma struggled against them, but he was only let down on their terms.

“Do you not want to dance with me that bad?” Kuroo rasped in his ear.

Kenma wished he’d let his hair cover his ears rather than tying it away from his face. “Why can’t you ask me normally, Kuro?”

“Too boring.”

Kenma let Kuroo hold him close despite his racing heart. Dancing with Shouyou was wild and reckless. Dancing with Kuroo was solid and familiar. Even through the scents of various women’s perfumes, he still smelled of the bellflower blossoms House Kuroo’s domain was famed for.

Kenma grew dizzy, but not from dancing.

“Getting cozy with Chibi-chan?” Kuroo said.

Kenma shrugged. “He’s an interesting dance partner.”

“Attractive, too.”

“I guess so? I wasn’t paying much attention to his appearance.”

_I was busy looking at you._

“Whenever I ask you to dance, you always say no,” Kuroo said, pouting. “Yet when some cute prince asks, you’re perfectly happy to do so.”

Jealousy flared in Kenma’s heart and flooded his senses. It seemed as if the dancers had grown in number since he’d joined them. “You were more than occupied with your own partners.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re not here to court.”

Kenma stopped abruptly, causing Kuroo to trip over his own feet. He stared at the floor, the muddled reflections of ball gowns encircling them. “And what if I was?”

“Oh, come now,” Kuroo laughed harshly. “Since when have you been interested in anything but your strategy books?”

Kenma scoffed. “That doesn’t mean I can’t accept an invitation to dance.”

“I mean,” Kuroo pointed to where Prince Kageyama and Shouyou had their foreheads pressed against each other, “I don’t think Chibi-chan was interested to begin with.”

Kenma opened his mouth to retort, but the song ended, any potential words luckily drowning in the applause.

“Thank you for the dance, Your Highness.” Kenma bowed and slipped through the crowd, breaths coming heavy.

He blinked back tears. He’d always been good at pretending. His stoicism got him through meetings with unpleasant diplomats and Kuroo’s awful attempts at flirting with potential suitors. Never once did he consider Kuroo viewed him as heartless or undesirable. His mother and father wanted him to find a partner just as much as Kuroo was required to. It wasn’t impossible for someone to develop an interest in him, too.

He turned corner after corner, seeking the solace of his quarters. He’d immerse himself in his boring texts and live his boring existence away from the opulence of the other nobles.

“Kenma, wait!”

Kenma plunged ahead, wishing he could go deaf for the next few hours. He shoved his door open, attempting to slam it shut before Kuroo could enter.

“Kenma, stop.”

Too late.

“Just go.” Kenma collapsed onto his bed, the energy of the ballroom fading from his body. He was tired of it all. The door clicked shut behind Kuroo. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Kenma shut his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“No. It’s not. I didn’t intend for you to think you’re not desirable or that Shouyou was using you as a replacement until Kageyama could swoop in.” His steps grew closer. “I know better than anyone else how untrue that is.”

_Stop it._

The bed creaked beside him.

“I was just surprised you said yes to someone and I spoke out of turn.”

_Stop it._

“I just want you to say yes to me sometimes.”

_Stop it. Stop it. Stop it._

“I want–”

“Stop,” Kenma croaked, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Kuroo shuffled closer, his breath tickling Kenma’s neck. “Why?”

“It hurts. It all hurts.”

The tears flowed freely now. Years of secret glances. Years of disguising blushes as heat exhaustion. Years of late nights, his low moans disturbing the quiet of his room. His hand would travel down his chest, acrid guilt accompanying his eventual release. It all had to stop. But he couldn’t manage it himself. He needed to be forced from Kuroo’s side. He needed to leave for good.

And he knew the most painful way to do it.

He pushed Kuroo down. A soft “oof” escaped him as he made contact with the comforter. He straddled him, staring down at his blessing. His curse.

“Kenma, what are you–”

He crashed their lips together. Kuroo’s lips didn’t move, but Kenma’s head swam with thoughts of how soft they were. He finally forced himself away, lips tingling from the momentary contact. He waited for Kuroo to end it all. He’d lose his home, his position, and his first love. _Say something,_ he demanded internally.

Kuroo’s hand slid behind Kenma’s neck. Instead of strangling Kenma, he gently coaxed him forward until their lips touched again. He licked at Kenma lips, requesting permission to continue Kenma’s instigation.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

 _And I can’t bring myself to care,_ he thought helplessly.

Kuroo sat up to slip off their jackets, their vests, Kenma’s shirt. He loosened the ribbon in Kenma’s hair and his locks fell in a mess, framing his features. Kenma shivered as Kuroo ran his hands along the sides, tucking what he could behind his ears.

“Now me?” Kuroo asked, his lips slick with spit.

“Kuro, I…” Kenma couldn’t find the words anymore. Kuroo was supposed to reject him. He was supposed to push him off and inform His Majesty that Kenma was no longer fit to be his retainer.

Kuroo wiped away a few of Kenma’s escaped tears. “We can stop.”

Kenma shook his head.

“I need a yes or a no,” he breathed against Kenma’s lips.

_Damn it all._

“Slower. Please.”

Kuroo chuckled softly. “I can do that.”

He lifted Kenma from his lap and laid him on his back. He left a few pecks along Kenma’s collarbone before unbuckling Kenma’s belt. He removed his slacks, but Kenma felt no colder than before.

“Wait, umm…” Kenma searched for words, finding few at his disposal in his current state. “You should undress as well.”

“As you wish,” Kuroo purred.

He removed his shirt agonizingly slowly. His hands traveled down his chest, eventually working to unbuckle his own belt. The muscles of his arms and chest were built by years of fencing and hand-to-hand combat training. Kenma couldn’t bring himself to touch.

“I didn’t know you would respond so well from just looking.”

Kenma’s erection strained in his underwear, a damp spot forming in the dark fabric. “It’s your fault.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Kuroo said with a smirk. “Scoot backwards a bit.”

Kenma obeyed, leaning against the backboard as Kuroo slipped out of his own underwear.

“Ah,” Kenma said unintelligently.

Kuroo crawled forward to kiss Kenma on the mouth, then dragged his lips along Kenma’s neck, his chest, further. Each spot he made contact with burned like liquid candle wax on a summer evening.

Kenma looked down just as Kuroo glanced up, his golden eyes pinning Kenma in place and his mouth hovering over his crotch.

“Let’s say we get these off, shall we?”

Kenma nodded, wiping away a sliver of saliva that had escaped his notice.

Kuroo licked his lips before sliding Kenma’s underwear off, his erection springing free. The cold air almost stung from how sensitive he’d become. Before he could adjust, Kuroo replaced the cold with an overwhelming heat.

“Fuck,” Kenma moaned.

Kuroo hummed around his dick. He rubbed the inside of Kenma’s thigh in small circles which only added to Kenma’s dizzy pleasure. Kuroo pulled away just enough to swirl his tongue around Kenma’s head. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, prompting Kuroo to take him back in his mouth. His rhythm grew less rhythmic as Kenma tried to push further into him.

Kuroo released him with a pop. “Good?”

“Too...good.”

“You want something even better?”

Kenma’s dick twitched at the insinuation. If he gave himself away like this, there was always the possibility Kuroo would be gone before Kenma could explain himself. Maybe Kuroo was just caught up in the tension of the moment. Maybe he just wanted someone. Anyone.

“Oh wait,” Kuroo said, unaware of Kenma’s inner struggle. “We need lubricant.”

Kenma pointed to his desk drawer, chest heaving. “There. Third drawer.”

“Always the prepared one.” Kuroo rummaged in his drawer and pulled out a small bottle. Before uncapping it his eyes widened. “Oh wait. Did you want to put it in instead? I shouldn’t have assumed–”

“Kuro?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and put your fingers inside me.”

Kuroo saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Kuroo poured a bit of lubricant onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the liquid. He kissed the insides of Kenma’s thighs again, nipping at the skin in spots. Kenma relished in the pricking sensation of his teeth. Kenma gasped as he brought a finger to his entrance and circled the area.

“Is this still okay?”

“ _Please,_ ” Kenma choked out.

Kuroo slid his finger into Kenma’s hole, one knuckle at a time. Kenma gripped the sheets until the finger was buried inside. He clenched around it, adjusting to its shape. Kuroo waited for Kenma to nod his permission, and then began to pump his finger, prompting Kenma to moan in tandem.

“Gods, Kenma. You look so good like this,” Kuroo praised. “You think you can do two?”

Kenma’s affirmation died on his lips as a second finger plunged inside. Kuroo tested multiple angles before pressing an area just behind his navel. Kenma repeatedly begged for him to do it again.

“Relax, kitten. You’re too tense.”

The combination of the nickname and the crook of Kuroo’s fingers against his prostate had Kenma spasming. His senses overwhelmed his ability to think as cum spurted onto his stomach.

When he could see straight again, Kuroo greeted him with a lazy grin. “Good?”

Kenma pulled at Kuroo’s arm to bring him back. He frowned when Kuroo chuckled. As if in apology, he brought his lips to Kenma’s in a slow kiss. Even as Kenma’s awareness of what’d they’d done was coming back to him, he wished he could stay with him like this for longer.

Kuroo pulled a breath away causing Kenma to whine. “Relax. I need to clean you up. You’ll grumble about it later if I don’t do it now.”

Kuroo’s erection bobbed in between them. Why would he walk away now? He couldn’t possibly be done. Kenma wasn’t done. He wrapped his legs around Kuroo, and locked him into place. They both gasped as his hardened dick rubbed against Kenma’s over-sensitive one. 

“I want you.”

Kuroo tucked a strand of Kenma’s hair behind his ear. “It might be a little much for you right now.”

Kenma wrapped his arms around him and bucked his hips again. “Let me decide.”

Kuroo groaned. “You’re going to kill me someday.”

They both snickered, two men sharing a quiet moment so far away from the din of the ball. It seemed like ages ago now.

“I’m not going to last long,” Kuroo admitted, not in the least embarrassed.

Kenma hummed. He didn’t mind. He’d hold onto whatever he could have, no matter how little.

Kuroo poured more lubricant into his fingers and jerked himself a few times before lining up with Kenma’s entrance.

Kuroo pushed in slowly, groaning as he went. Kenma choked out a sob and reached for Kuroo’s hand. He intertwined their fingers, squeezing hard enough to alleviate some of the delicious yet overwhelming pressure.

Kuroo finally bottomed out, letting Kenma adjust to how full he’d become.

“Fuck. Tight. So tight.”

Kenma marveled at the sight before him. He and Kuroo were connected. Truly connected. Though even in his hazy happiness, a sort of panic settled in him. He needed to know this wasn’t the end, but how could he ask that of Kuroo?

“Kenma? You alright?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he squeezed his hand again.

“I can stop,” Kuroo said, his voice edging on apprehension. “We don’t need to do this if you’re not comfortable.”

He started to pull out, but Kenma gripped harder. “Tell me you won’t go anywhere.”

“What?”

“Tell me…” Kenma bit his lip. “Tell me if we do this, we won’t pretend it never happened. Tell me you won’t hate me. Tell me that you…” _want all of me_ , he finished in his head.

“No. No no no. I would _never_ hate you. Kenma I—okay maybe I should save that for when I’m not inside you, but...I want you. Not just for this. Not just for friendship. I want everything. All of you.”

The way Kuroo smiled almost melted Kenma into the sheets. His eyes flickered in the light of the lantern at his bedside, warm and soothing. Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t falling into a dark hole, the bottom nowhere in sight. Maybe instead he was falling through the sky, Kuroo at his side, his wings at the ready to extend when he needed to slow Kenma’s descent.

“Keep going,” Kenma whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of Kuroo’s mouth.

Kuroo obliged, his thrusts slow and languid. Kenma had heard it’d be painful the first time, but more than anything, he felt protected and safe. Kuroo was like a sun-dried comforter just removed from the clothes line. He was swathed in his heat.

The pressure increased as Kuroo’s thrusts grew shallow and his movements sloppy. Kenma ignored the bit of pain as he pushed further and further into him, instead focusing on the heat building in his stomach. Kuroo reached forward and grasped Kenma’s erection, both of their breathing ragged.

“Kuro,” he repeated, clutching him to his chest.

“Say my name,” Kuroo begged.

Kenma wrapped his legs around Kuroo and locked him tight, barely leaving room for him to pull out.

“ _Tetsurou._ ”

Kuroo jerked his hips forward one last time as he poured into Kenma, a growl escaping his throat. He remained in place until his breathing slowed to a more natural tempo. When he pulled out, Kenma mourned the loss, left only with the drip of semen down his thighs. A concept that brought him to arousal was now nothing but a sticky mess.

“Okay, _now_ let’s clean you up.”

Kenma nodded and stood from the bed, but his legs crumpled beneath him. Strong arms caught him and hoisted him into a princess carry. He couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

Kenma barely registered the rush of water from the bathtub faucet. Kuroo swished a hand through it to check the temperature. Satisfied, he lowered Kenma into the bath. Kenma immediately relaxed against the cool porcelain, his head laid back against the rim of the tub. He’d never tell Kuroo, but this was more pleasurable than the sex. 

“Make some room for me,” Kuroo murmured in his ear.

He scooted forward and allowed for Kuroo to slip in behind him. Kuroo settled himself and combed Kenma’s hair away from his face with his fingers. “Feeling okay?”

Kenma nodded, closing his eyes and focusing on Kuroo’s fingers and the droplets of water running down his back rather than answering.

Kuroo kissed his shoulder. “Good. I was worried I didn’t prepare you enough.”

They enjoyed their companionable silence, the intermittent disturbance of bath water the only echo against the bathroom walls. Kenma’s eyes began to droop. He nuzzled against Kuroo’s chest and sighed contentedly.

“I love you, you know?” Kuroo said finally.

And in his lingering haze, Kenma couldn’t bring himself to feel shocked. Maybe tomorrow he’d rethink the validity of his statement. But at the moment, he wanted to believe Kuroo’s words. So he chose to. 

“Me too,” he mumbled. “I love you too.”

Kuroo leaned down to press a chaste kiss against his lips. Kenma eventually broke it to nuzzle the crook of Kuroo’s neck. 

“Alright.” Kuroo rubbed Kenma’s back. “Let me dry you off.”

Kenma reluctantly lifted himself out of the bath, only able to stand because the warm water had relaxed his muscles. He let Kuroo wipe a towel across his body, only squirming when Kuroo rubbed his hair into a damp mess.

“Not funny,” he pouted.

“Whatever you say,” Kuroo chirped.

They ignored their discarded clothes for the warm confines of Kenma’s blankets. Kuroo pulled him into his chest, Kenma sighing both tiredly and happily. He closed his eyes, ready to let himself fall into a dreamless sleep.

“I guess I’ll have to inform father and Shimizu they won our bet,” Kuroo mused.

Kenma opened his eyes again and scrunched his nose. “What bet?”

“They were of the mind that I was too much of a coward to instigate a romantic gesture, but I thought I was better than that.” He ran his fingers through his always messy hair. “I guess I wasn’t.”

“Does that mean you thought _me_ a coward?” Kenma said.

“Maaaaybe,” Kuroo singsonged.

Kenma swatted his chest, eliciting a cackle from Kuroo.

“Wait, does this also mean your father approves of this?”

Kuroo smirked and kissed Kenma on his forehead. “You can ask him tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Kenma blushed, his ears warming at the tips. “No. I think I won’t.”

“Well, we can speak on that tomorrow. Get some rest.” Kuroo pressed his lips to Kenma’s hair.

Before Kenma lost himself to sleep, he intertwined their fingers. He brought Kuroo’s hand to his lips mouthing a soundless promise, one he felt no need to say aloud. Not yet. It was best saved for a future king’s wedding. One in a garden surrounded by star-shaped bellflowers.

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh! This was extremely self-indulgent, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to try my hand at smut and I figured I'd work with characters I'm already used to. It ended up way softer than I was intending, but I'm not complaining. If you want to scream at me about Kuroken, check out my social media below~
> 
>  **Twitter:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://twitter.com/TeddyKrueger__)  
>  **Tumblr:**[ @TeddyKrueger](https://teddykrueger.tumblr.com)  
>  **Curious Cat:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://curiouscat.me/TeddyKrueger__)


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